Birthday plots...

For those of you hoping for a non-Porsche related post, I apologize. I'm talking cars again...

Jeez - this has been a LONG time coming.

Way back when I started writing this crap down, I posted about how my wife bought me the Porsche. In our family, this is often referred to as a "Homer Simpson gift" - hinting at that Simpson's episode in which Homer gives Marge a new bowling ball for her birthday. With finger holes in his size, and the name "Homer" engraved on the surface ("Well if you don't want it, I know someone who does!" states Homer).

The 1979 Porsche 911SC which my wife bought for me was very, VERY close to a Homer gift. You see, my wife is a closet car nut. In certain circles she will even admit that she watches Speedvision. When I first met Amy, she was driving a Porsche 924 - it had electrical problems, the sun roof leaked, but it was a Porsche. Oh - and no mamby pamby automatic transmission for this lady - she drives a stick.

Yeah - it was just one more thing that attracted me to her.

So, it was no great leap for Amy to buy the car "for me" - because she had always wanted a 911 and would be able to reap the benefits of the gift herself. It would be fun for us to drive, nice to take out on dates, and in general a somewhat frivolous, but welcome addition to the garage.

Well - so she thought.

As is blatantly obvious from this web log, I became infected with the track bug. It started with a DE to test the waters, and then snowballed. The "nice" car began the transformation...

• Remove carpeting
• Remove radio and amplifier
• Replace seats
• Remove rear seats
• Remove rear speakers
• Add harness bar
• Add six-point racing harness
• Add hot-lap timing system

In a matter of months, this "luxury" sports car became a utility track car. One which Amy did NOT enjoy driving in, and really didn't want to go out to dinner in.

Whoops...

Well, now I feel kind of bad. Not bad enough to "undo" all my changes, but bad nonetheless. I mean, here I am in a manner of months transforming the car from a luxury tool-around-town machine into a screaming breathing track monster (well - not quite, but I can hope...)

So, I'll just have to buy HER a car. Yeah - like that will ever happen. It's a HUGE effort looking for a car - and committing to actually buying one? No thanks. I'm a puss.

But I'll look around. Just in case.

So Amy's birthday is approaching (August 19th for those of you counting) and I've got a skeleton of an idea for a bash. I've become quite enamored with these tiki cups sold by a company on the 'net (insert plug -> here). I've also become quite fond of the occasional 'tropical adult beverage' - as has Amy. So, my brilliant plan will be to buy her an assortment of Tiki mugs - invite some dOOds over for a Tiki themed party, and whoop it up.

So I order up a bunch of mugs. A week later they arrive, and I secretly unpack them. Let me tell you, these things are COOL. So I order up some more.... and I find a hiding spot for them. All twenty. And I begin fleshing out the details of the party. Pig roast, cocktails, pacific flair music, tiki lamps, and a bunch of friends. It all sounds SO perfect.

In my head.

Everyone knows, however, it's not the planning that really gets anything accomplished - it's the execution; and, to put it bluntly, I often times fail to execute. Within a month of Amy's birthday it's becoming obvious that I haven't contacted enough people to make this happen. Like the local BBQ place to host the pig. Like all the FRIENDS to attend the party. Like the slushy rental place to have some frosty drinks. I have contacted NONE. I haven't arranged a thing. Nada, nothing, zilch, ZERO.

BUT - I have a good reason.

I found Amy a car.

Not just any car, oh no. This is an Alpine White, 1991 Carrera 4. That's four wheels of driving goodness being pushed by a 3.6L Porsche engine through a 5 speed manual transmission. It sports a tan leather interior; air conditioning; cruise control; sun roof; yada yada yada. It's a cream puff. It's absolutely, positively perfect for Amy.

And (get this) I found it on Craigslist.

Seems that this young man bought the car for himself and his wife earlier this year - and this poor guy then proceeded to knock her up (the wife that is). For whatever reason, "they" decide that they can't have a baby and a 911 at the same time, so the car HAS to go. And who better to take this gem off of their hands?

So I'm in stealth mode now. I have to arrange to test drive the car without Amy's knowledge.

#INCLUDE Stress

So, I take a day off of work to start gutting our master bathroom (one day I'll talk about all of our home improvements). I work like a maniac in the morning and then take an hour drive up north to meet this guy and his white car. I, of course, take my blue one.

Arriving there, I do the typical kick-the-tires walkaround. Visual inspect the engine, and pop the trunk. Wow - this thing is CLEAN. Here's the original tool kit, and the original inflation pump for the spare. The carpeting is perfect. The interior is at least an 8 out of 10. It looks fantastic.

Schwing.

Ok - let's turn over the motor.

Wirrrrrrrr...broooom.

Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Ummm - yeah. Schwing.

Ok - let's hop in and take'r for a spin. Adjust the driver's seat (all electric), take care of the mirrors. Mash down the clutch (wow - a hydraulic clutch feels SO different from my cable-and-spring model!) and ease out of the parking lot. I'm at this guy's place of employment, so I'm not going to hot-dog it...yet.

Head out to a main street and get on the gas. Wind it up to around 5K and drop it into third, easing off the gas.

The owner (sitting next to me) says something to the effect "Wow, you really rev it up - I don't ever go over 3500".

Ummmm - yeah.... dude, what planet are you from?

We chat up the car a bit and it becomes pretty obvious that this guy bought the car for the name more than the performance. In fact, he seems like the type that spends more time keeping the car perfect than driving it.

Exactly the kind of guy you want to buy a car from.

Ok - so, back to the parking lot. I take another look around checking for any dripping fluids, or odd noises. Not a damn thing.

I tell him that I'm very interested in the car - but his asking price, while fair, is a bit out of my range. I also reiterate that it is certainly possible to have both a 911 and a baby, but he seems determined to sell.

So, we part ways with a handshake - and I'm thinking there is no way I'm going to buy this car. It really is too expensive, and to offer this guy what I can afford would be an insult.

But, then again, there is no harm in trying - right?

By the time I get home, I figure "what the hell", so I basically send him a low-ball offer via email.

His rapid response was pretty much what I expected; a counter-offer which is still too high for me.

I "ice" him for that night. I figure I've lost the deal anyway, since I really won't go any higher.

The next morning I explain the situation, and stand firm on my offer.

He responds with the "My wife and I have to think about it" excuse - and proceeds to "ice" ME for the weekend. Again, I write it off. There is no way he'll sell at my price.

Monday morning, he accepts.


Holy Shit - I just bought ANOTHER Porsche!

How am I going to pay for it?
How am I going to get it home?
How am I going to keep this secret?

One month before Amy's birthday, and I have one doosey of a surprise - and a hell of a lot of planning to do to pull this off.